


The One Spared

by Warren_Peace



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/F, F/M, Gay Character, I made things gayer, I will be adding more tags as the story progresses, M/M, Morally Ambiguous Character, Multi, Self-Indulgent, Skyrim Civil War, Skyrim Spoilers, Skyrim but more interesting, events and story based off a playthrough, feel free to make suggestions, instances of noncanon speculation, just not the focus of the story, my goal was to humanize the world and the characters in it, no beta we die like men, only hints to main quest and civil war quests, the dragonborn exists, theres more agnst than i had inicially planned, yeah i dont know how tags work
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-12-24
Updated: 2021-01-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 18:36:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,124
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28281789
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Warren_Peace/pseuds/Warren_Peace
Summary: Callisto Salverius survived Helgen, not because he was supposed to, in fact quite the opposite. Callisto had no reason to survive, a petty criminal set to be executed alongside the Dragonborn and the murderer of the High King of Skyrim should have perished in the flames of oblivion, but he didn't. He lived not because he was important to the world in anyway, or it's destruction, but because he simply couldn't die, not before he found his place in such a world. Callisto should not have survived Helgen, but he did, and the story hardly ends there.
Relationships: Skyrim Character/Original Spouses, Skyrim Characters/New Spouses, Skyrim Characters/Original Male Character
Comments: 2
Kudos: 2





	1. Unbound

\-------------------------------------

“...A song, a song, shall bring my soldier home…”

A distant voice rang sweetly through the air. There in the foggy image sat a thin woman draped in a woven quilt. As the fireplace crackled it's flames dimly lit her from the front, exaggerating the golden color of her skin. The details were faint, hardly even there, but as the woman gently rocked back and forth, a baby could be seen in her arms. 

“...A light, a light, will siege the battle on…” 

The child layed docile in her arms, lulled to sleep by the song she sang hushedly to it. She turned her back to the fire, and pulled the baby closer to her chest as she smiled down lovingly. 

“...And when the war is done, my soldier will have a son…” 

Her voice broke slightly at the last word, and quiet tears began to fall down her suddenly sombre face. There wasn’t much that could be seen outside of the hearth she was stood by, however a door was pushed open, just off to the side. The woman looked towards it, and the fire at her back seemed to glow brighter. Her eyes were fixed on the figure at the door, and the tears continued to fall from her tired looking eyes.

“...For the soldiers real battle will only just have begun…” 

The hearth suddenly erupted into a fiery ploom of heat and smoke, and the flames overtook the woman and the child in her arms as the room was engulfed in the light of the once timid fire, while the figure in the doorway had disappeared.

\-------------------------------------

A particularly rough bump on the forest path shook Callisto from his sleep. Attempting to open his eyes fully sent a sharp pain through the right side of his face, quikly recalling he had taken quite a dagger slash to it earlier, it was a divine gift that he could see out of it at all. He twisted his wrists against the ropes with a small hope that they had loosened some. These ropes were tighter than most he had encountered, but the imperials didn’t often miss an opportunity to make its enemies suffer until the very last moment they could. 

Callisto swayed slightly as to not get rocked so hard by the wagon, glancing up, he could see the morning sun drift through the leaves He wanted to let his burning eyes shut once more, but if these really were his last moments, he wanted to see the way the light trickled down the foliage in the forests before he went.

“Hey, you, you’re finally awake.” 

His eyes snapped open in slight irritation, and he eyed the man who was speaking. A rough looking Nord had a harsh expression as he stared across the wagon at another, yet much younger looking Nord. 

The conversation between the three men that followed was only half listened to, Callisto caught the important things, harsh words, regretful mutterings, and gentle sorrowful whispers. Until something caught his full attention.

“Watch your tongue! You’re speaking to Ulfric Stormcloak, the true high king.

Now that was interesting.

Callisto turned his head slightly and saw the man in question, undoubtedly Ulfric Stormcloak, bound like a dog just a skipping stone away, he almost laughed. Here he was, the killer of kings, in the grasp of the Imperial legion, sat across from a horse thief. He had to admit, this was not an ending he could have foretold. 

Callisto knew better, however. He knew you could not kill a man like Ulfric by means of a simple beheading, which was inevitably waiting for them all. He watched this man kill the High King of Skyrim, and he watched him stroll out of the capitol with even more ease. It was only a matter of time before the present situation got messier. 

The carriage slowed to a halt, and Callisto realized he did not recognize the name of the settlement they were now entering, he picked up the name “Helgen,” from the Stormcloak soldier.

The peoples’ eyes were on him, women, children, the Imperial soldiers. Callisto slumped to the side and hung his head, twisting his wrists uncomfortably. He was caught between postponing the end and wishing the song and dance of it all to be over with, so the audience didn’t have anything to be entertained by. 

He was second to last off the wagon once they finally came to a halt deeper within the settlement, he jumped off with ease, given his height. After watching the horse thief be shot in the streets, he figured chances of escape were slim to none. Callisto strode up to the Imperial reading off soon to be forgotten names, never letting his own eyes leave his. The soldier glared back, not bothering to glance at the list.

“Callisto Salverius”, the name snarled off of his tongue, “What skeevers nest did they scrape you off the bottom of?” He raised his voice, those around them turning their heads.

Callisto’s eyebrow twitched, but he just smiled down at the man.

“Tell me, was it easier being a traitorous Legionnaire or one of Ulfric’s concubines?”

Callisto’s eyes bored into the soldier’s, although he noticed Ulfric’s eyebrow raise in confusion. It was just a game, these words, his response, it didn’t matter when his head was the one going on the chopping block, so he felt it best to let the man he did not know berate him for his actions in a life that would soon be over. His face was unreadable aside from the unwavering smile he donned as he glanced at Ulfric. 

That being said, there’s nothing wrong with playing the game if it didn’t matter anyway, right?

“Why don’t you ask him?” Callisto kept his voice sunken, but loud enough to hear as he jerked his head towards Ulfric.

“I’m sure my services would have been more… memorable to him anyway.” Callisto had to keep himself from grinning as he finished his remark.

Both of the Imperials in front of him had a look of disgust on their faces, Ulfric looked dumbfounded, the Stormcloak shouted something angrily, and the young Nord quietly laughed to himself.

“Enough.” The Imperial captain barked. “You’ve disgraced your Imperial brethren enough.” She emphasized.

Nothing else was said as Callisto made his way over to the group of other prisoners.

It was surreal, seeing the first man lose his head. It was starting to set in for Callisto. He kept himself steady however, as the young Nord was asked to step up to the block. It was a tragedy to say the least, he’d never get to know his story. 

Just then, the sky itself seemed to shake. The noise alone would have put anyone on edge, but Callisto could have sworn he’d seen a pitch black mass fly overhead. He assured himself he was only seeing things, simply imagining death incarnate to accompany him on his last day.

The axe was preparing to swing against the young Nord’s neck, when oblivion stared every single person in the face. 

Callisto’s mind was blank as he dove behind the carriage as the first wave of fire enveloped the space, managing to avoid the flames head on. Before he could even register what he saw, projectiles started to hit the ground with such force it shook beneath his feet.

Callisto fought with his bonds desperately, but they only felt tighter against his skin, he searched for something in his immediate vicinity to help, noticing a saddle bag laying idly next to a dead horse, who must have fallen to the flames. He nearly tore it open as he searched through it until he shakily grabbed hold of an iron dagger before gripping it with his feet, cutting through the ropes as quickly as possible.

Once free, he pocketed the dagger and tried to peer over the wagon, but was struck back to his feet as another projectile hit to his right. He stared in its direction, until movement drew his attention away from it. He was able to make out Ulfric and the Stormcloak soldier assisting the young nord into a stone tower. He contemplated following after them, but he hesitated, he may not be considered worth keeping alive to them as it were. 

His eyes fell upon the nightmare that caused this destruction as it blew a whole in the tower. He tore his eyes away, hastily scanning for an exit. He locked his sights on a small hole blasted in the outer wall of the settlement, smoke still rising from the ground below it.

Another blast hit the ground, Callisto wasn’t waiting around for a safer way to flee. He shook his head slightly, preparing to dash, when instead he found himself staring down the edge of a blade.

Callisto’s blood was still pumping so hard he nearly staggered back, but he kept himself still as he met eyes with the Imperial soldier before at the end of the sword. 

He didn’t steer his gaze away from Callisto either, panting heavily. He leaned against the wagon, not ducking down as much. Callisto allowed himself to clear his thinking for a moment, and remain calm. He was not going to lose his chance to escape an attack like this, he would kill the soldier if he had to, but as Callisto looked into his eyes, he didn’t see any real threat, just a terrified young man. 

He lightly brushed the blade away from his face, still holding his eyes in place. The soldier breathed deeply and lowered the sword, only to hold out the hilt of another one for Callisto to take. He didn’t react for a moment, only switching his gaze from the sword and back up at the soldier, a projectile hit a structure nearby causing a deafening sound. 

“I know a way out, but we have to go now.” The legionnaire's voice was hoarse, and he coughed as he finished his statement. Callisto’s decision didn’t change, if it went wrong, it wouldn’t be hard to fight his way out of it. 

He took the sword and nodded shortly. The soldier looked back over the carriage and started to move away from the wagon, hugging the wall, he motioned for Callisto to follow. The two carefully made their way into a building close to where they had been hiding, at this point the chaos had mostly been focused on the other side of the settlement, although they did have to dodge charred bodies and collapsing wooden structures, it wasn’t long until they found themselves underground.

\-------------------------------------

Callisto was scavenging for some sort of supplies that could help in a situation like this, while the Imperial soldier looked around briefly for survivors. Concluding they were the only ones left, Callisto slipped on some Imperial armor, all while the soldier eyed him angrily. 

“You have no right to wear that armor, traitors don’t deserve the protection of that which it has disgraced.” The Soldier was still wheezing slightly as he spoke, must have inhaled quite a bit of smoke. Callisto scoffed.

“I suppose I don’t deserve a lot of things, like dying here.” Callisto slipped the bracers over his wounded wrists as he shoved past the soldier, turning the sword over in his hands to feel the weight. “Don’t you want me to die like a traitor should? On the block?” They both hurriedly made their way down the corridor and to the open space of the keep entrance. The soldier didn’t get a chance to respond as Callisto held his hand out in front of him before he could step inside. Quiet voices from inside could be heard, and the soldier leaned against the wall to peer out just slightly. He brought his head back in before whispering.

“Stormcloaks, maybe we can reason with them.” He drew his sword and looked to Callisto

He nodded back at him, drawing his own weapon before entering, his movements were too fast for the Stormcloak as he struck him in the back, the Imperial soldier quickly joined his side before attacking the other Stormcloak. The fight was quick and easy, but something seemed to put off the Imperial soldier, as his face was pale as he looted the arrows off the corps. 

“I will make sure you die a traitor's death, remember that.” The soldier's remark came from nowhere, but Callisto pondered it for a moment before replying.

“Well, what should I call you then? What is the name of the one who will bring my death?” Callisto was just amusing himself at this point, but the serious and troubled look on the soldiers face made him want a real answer. 

“Hadvar.” He tried to say it with conviction, but it fell flat on account of his shaky breath. 

Callisto hummed and waited for Hadvar to lead him to the next corridor. 

\-------------------------------------

A series of fighting off equally disheveled Stormcloaks, looting the bodies, battling some spiders and somehow sneaking past a cave bear eventually put Callisto and Hadvar outside of a cave and and into the forest, more importantly outside of Helgen. Callisto took the time to remove his helmet and wipe his brow, finally getting a moment to breathe. It was cut short however, by Hadvar pointing his sword at his throat. Callisto just looked at it blankly, then up at Hadvar. 

“Now that the excitement is over, you will accompany me to Riverwood where you will soon be placed under arrest and taken to Whiterun for holding, your execution will be determined on a later date, If you try anything now, I’ll give you a death worse than a traitor could ever deserve, do I make myself clear?” 

Callisto took a moment to size Hadvar up, he was pale, and his voice quivered when he delivered his speech to him, he was considerably shorter and younger than Callisto, and he couldn’t seem to get rid of this shake in his hands. A part of him felt bad for the man, and noticed he could most likely use some healing attention, but a string of other thoughts reached his head. 

Having a bit of refuge in a small hold like Riverwood would be desirable, as he wasn’t in the best condition himself. Employing the use of the resources there before making an escape would fare better than attempting to run from the law empty handed. Callisto even considered the fact that there might be some sort of contact in the settlement to help him slip away to where he needed to go. 

Callisto held his hands up slightly, smiling at Hadvar as he did so. 

“Yes sir.”

\-------------------------------------

The two had hobbled into Riverwood by sundown, and Callisto was advised against speaking with any of the locals besides Hadvar’s uncle, Alvor, a burly blacksmith who was remarkably understanding of the events at Helgen. 

Hadvar now sat close to the fireplace, his armor now removed. Callisto was behind him, skimming nearby dressers and end tables for anything of value, and managing to wrack up quite a bit in terms of value. His right eye had been tended to and wrapped slightly, although Callisto removed the bandage soon after. Once certain he’d grabbed everything of value he might need, he turned his attention to Hadvar, who still had this pale look to him. Callisto rested his hands neatly behind his back, the material of the fresh set of clothes Alvor gave him rubbing against his sore wrists. 

“You look like you’re keeping something to yourself.” Callisto spoke without moving from where he stood.

Hadvar turned his head slightly, the crackle of the flames filled the room when he did not reply right away.

“Well, you should know a lot about keepings things hidden, shouldn’t you?” Hadvar snapped his head back towards the fire.

“I know when people are good and bad at hiding things, or at least withholding information, I especially know how to make people stop withholding information.” 

Hadvar glanced back as Callisto replied, and as soon as he found his unbreakable stare he shivered slightly, despite being so close to the fire. He looked down, slowly formulating a response. 

“Why...did you betray the Empire, your own kind, for Ulfric Stormcloak?” Hadvar waited a moment before asking his next question. 

“...We’re the rumors about you being his main concubine true?” The last part of his question seemed to trail off, barely above a whisper, but Callisto still heard it.

He just stared blankly in Hadvar’s direction, with a sigh he began explaining.

“No, they’re not. How someone even came up with such a rumor is beyond me, and not that anyone in the Jarl's court is going to believe this, but I didn’t work for Ulfric, as a spy or concubine, to be clear.” 

Hadvar seemed to breathe a bit easier as a look of relief washed over his face, but it was quickly replaced with confusion as he began to speak. 

“Wait, if you weren’t spying for Ulfric, who were you employed by?” Hadvar slumped heavily into his chair.

“At first, I joined the legion on my own accord, I figured if I could find a stable position there, It would make life a bit easier at least. I realized soon after just how easy espionage work would be, considering the lack of security.” Callisto laughed slightly to himself as he spoke.

“I took the initiative of collecting minor things here and there, certain battle plans and names, supply drops and so on. I had been holding on to that information while I made the decision to search for someone who could use it.” Callisto stretched his arm to adjust his sleeve, picking up a bottle of ale before opening it, taking a deep swig, without looking up at Hadvar he could sense his confusion growing. 

“The Solitude docks had many people of interest pass in and out day by day, and shadows covering their backs. I sold off most of my information to separate groups, but all in small amounts. Some supply drop locations to pirates, a bit of foresight into the legions nest move to Nobles, even a few choice names for the Thieves Guild.” Callisto now paced slightly as he absentmindedly took swigs from the bottle of ale.

“That’s all it was for a bit, until I got an offer from an entirely new source, seems word of my little business had reached people in high places.” Callisto peered into the fire before directing his gaze back at Hadvar.

“Who?” Hadvar seemed a bit more eager now, eyes pleading for more information. 

“I truly don’t know, I never met with him directly, he had a woman who lived in Solitude deliver me letters on what specific information I was supposed to collect, and he had a different contact meet at the docks to pick up the intel, and to provide my pay.” He paused as he looked Havar in the eye sincerely.

“I know it wasn’t Ulfric, he would have no need for the secrecy, would undoubtedly give me some speech about the true sons and daughters of Skyrim before signing it personally, the self righteous ones are always the same.” He noticed Hadvar’s obvious disappointment at his words. 

“There must have been some clue on who he was, never a house symbol or a name?” 

Callisto shook his head after another sip. 

“Nothing that provided any real leads.”

Of course, Callisto was lying through his teeth. He wasn’t stupid, there were only two real enemies of the Empire, and with a civil war, having inside information on the outcome of battles and weak points for either side was good information if one would ever plan to intervene. It wasn’t exactly subtle either, considering that both of the contacts he regularly spoke to were High Elves.

Hadvar hummed to himself before looking up at Callisto.

“Despite that, why the spying and the deceit? If not for Ulfric then why the betrayal for anyone?”

Callisto had to keep himself from rolling his eyes. There was no reason to be dishonest, although he had no reason to believe Hadvar would understand. He thought to himself for a moment, and leaned back on the end table, no longer holding Hadvar’s gaze. It wasn’t like it mattered anyway, he was deliberately going to make as little contact with Hadvar ever again so why be true in this moment? Of course, that’s what he’d told himself before his life was saved in quite a bizarre way before his execution. Despite himself, he began recanting.

“I have never once been able to find my place amongst my fellow Imperials,” he raised his bottle in emphasis before continuing, “This betrayal was hardly a betrayal, because I never felt close enough to call any of it my own, and I lived my entire life within Solitude’s walls, the fact that I am now dead to all the Imperials who fought by my side doesn’t sway me much, when they were hardly anything to me in the first place.”

When he looked back, Hadvar was no longer looking at him. 

“Maybe it is better to feel less, almost nothing.” Hadvar spoke in a hushed tone, a foggy look in his eyes. 

With another swig from the bottle of ale Callisto actually did roll his eyes this time. 

“I never said I don’t feel anything, I’m not a monster, I can’t explain it but I know that in Solitude, with the Empire, with other Imperials, I am not home.” Callisto was almost raising his voice, and he gently put the empty bottle of ale down on the end table he was leaning on.

“It is pointless to try to convince you of this, but I have nothing against the Empire or their political affiliations, nor do I of the rebellion, I won’t claim that spying on the Legion was going to provide me a place in the world either, I just didn’t realize how pointless it really was, until now.” Callisto had done more talking to this man than he had in the past few weeks with his fellow Imperial Soldiers, it was surprising that he didn’t hate it.

“It only took the dragons coming back to make you realize your mistakes?” Hadvar’s humorous tone caught him off guard, and it was quiet for a moment before the both started to chuckle to themselves on opposite sides of the room. 

He was right however, the dragons, or at least one dragon, had returned. 

Well, there was no time to worry about that now, dragons or no dragon, Callisto had a journey to make..

Alvor entered the room abruptly, briefly letting in the cold chill of the evening. He strode across the room to place a hand on Hadvar’s shoulder.

“I just arranged plans for you to stay in the inn, Delphine has a room ready for you.” stepping closer to the fire and sticking out his hands to feel its warmth.

Callisto had a couple of questions swimming around in his mind but before he knew it, Hadvar had stood and pulled him aside before speaking in a whisper. 

“Before you ask, I’m staying at the inn so you can get mixed up with as few of the locals as possible, it’s bad enough I have to put my family in danger around you.” 

Callisto’s eyes narrowed slightly as he looked down at the man. 

“I have never proven myself to be dangerous, I told you I’m not a monster.” 

“You also told General Tullius you wanted to fight for the Empire, so I’m not taking any chances.” Hadvar responded sharply. 

Callisto just sighed deeply and tapped his finger against his bicep.

“Very well.” He stared at Hadvar, a bit of a grin could be seen on his face.

\-------------------------------------

It had reached around two in the morning, the spare bed in Alvor’s home had already been neatly made and the last of the drawers and cupboards were rummaged through, Callisto had obtained enough for a carriage ride and maybe a few days worth of food, hopefully he could collect more as he traveled. 

It wasn’t a problem sneaking out of the residence and onto the cold streets of Riverwood, the most difficult part would be navigating to Whiterun in the darkened woods of Skyrim. Callisto wondered if crossing the river in hopes to see the lights from the city was worth it, besides, putting more distance between him and the one and only person who knew he was still alive wasn’t a bad thing. 

Callisto crossed the bridge to happen upon a hollowed log with what looked like torchlight illuminating the inside, before he could get close enough to investigate however, out stepped Hadvar holding a torch, and he wore the same look of seriousness with a hint of dread as he had since they’d met. Callisto stopped in his tracks, he expected something like this of course, but since he crossed the bridge he figured he wouldn't have a problem. 

Hadvar just stood there, not saying anything, almost as at odds as Callisto, and it went on for some time. Callisto almost wanted to see how long they could both last. 

“You don’t have to keep running.” Hadvar’s words reached his ears so harshly it almost made him cringe. 

“I can make some sort of deal with General Tullius, the the Jarl if I must, your crime is much different than what you were originally being executed for, there's a chance to fix this, a chance to find you--”

With one swift, rounded kick, Hadvar was on his back and wheezing for air as he hit the cold stone. Callisto made his way to get on top of Hadvar, making sure he was looking at him before he spoke. 

“Sorry friend, but I have somewhere to be.”

With a very swift punch to Hardvar’s face, he was out cold. Callisto stood and checked his surroundings, thankfully able to locate the distant lights of Whiterun. He made sure to prop Hadvar up inside the hollowed long and perched the torch inside for warmth. As he turned to walk the path towards the light, he glanced back at Helgen, the distant smoke and flames still being snuffed out. 

\-------------------------------------


	2. The Road Home

\-------------------------------------

It hadn’t taken long for Callisto to find himself at the Whiterun stables, he walked the path in the darkness, but could make out the general shape of a wagon, along with someone standing beside it. He hurried forward and tried to call attention to the person as they loaded the carriage. 

The older looking Nord man squinted his eyes in the darkness before reaching up and pulling the torch from its place next to the seat of the carriage, looking Callisto up and down before speaking loudly.

“Well, what are you doing out here in the dead of night? Here to rob me?”

Callisto stepped closer to him, tilting his head slightly but smiling at the man. 

“I’d like to hire your carriage, if you’re taking customers that is. I have somewhere I need to be.” 

The old man brushed the few strands of hair on his head back as he whistled, patting the horse on its neck with his other hand.

“Ah, it’s just as well, was just settin’ up to leave anyway, I wanted to make it to Windhelm by tomorrow evenin’.” He gestured to his carriage and seemingly at the sky. Callisto nodded idly as he continued to smile at the man. 

“Excellent, that’s exactly where I need to head.” His words carried nothing in them, and his voice sounded rather dry, hearing it aloud made Callisto realize how exhausted he truly was, but the sooner he was on the carriage and heading east, the sooner he could finally sleep. 

The man smiled back at him, and began to climb into the driver's seat of the carriage. 

“Hop on, I’ll be needin’ twenty gold from ya, but since I was headed there anyway we can wait on that for a bit, what’s your name, Imperial?” The Nord’s words seemed to feel like an insult, but Callisto pulled himself into the carriage with ease and only registered what he had asked after a moment of silence. He looked off towards Riverwood, and back in the direction of Helgen before responding. 

“I don’t have one yet.” He stated plainly.

The old man snorted and raised his eyebrows, slightly turned towards Callisto. 

“Yeah, as if that’s less suspicious. Whoever you are, better pick a name for yourself soon, the less you hesitate with it the better, more believable. You can call me Bjorlam by the way.”

Callisto raised his own eyebrows and studied Bjorlam from behind for a moment with a curious look. The carriage started to move as the sound of the horse’s hooves kicked against the dirt. 

“It’s not that, I want to find a name that carries who I am when it’s spoken.” Callisto rubbed at his wrist subconsciously as he spoke. Bjorlam nodded but responded with a small amount of sarcasm in his voice. 

“Well, let’s hope you’re even worth talking about.” Callisto smiled at the man's words only to himself as he looked forward. 

“We shall see, my friend.”

\-------------------------------------

Callisto once again found himself awoken by something roughly shaking the carriage he now laid down in. His head bumped the bottom of it before hearing a few snickers and deep malicious laughter.

He raised his head to three bandits, their faces covered in war paint. A fraction of a moment of panic plagued Callisto’s face, and his few thoughts came to him rapidly. His eyes wandered briefly off to the side, and just a ways up the hill of the trail, he could see Bjorlam tied and slumped against a tree, still conscious but looking worse for wear. 

They were all armed, two archers and one with a massive warhammer, while Callisto merely had an iron dagger and no armor to speak of. If he was going to fight his way out of this, he would have to get creative. 

He sat up ever so slightly and smiled at the bandit trio in front of him before gesturing to Bjorlam with his head. 

“Bit rude to tie up a harmless old man like that, isn’t it?” 

The bandit with the warhammer let out a boisterous laugh, balancing the weapon on her shoulder. 

“We thought he was alone out here, figured we’d scored a trading caravan or something with the cargo covered by that sabre cat pelt, imagine our surprise when we lifted it to find an Imperial, sleeping like a little baby, all tucked in.” Her voice was rough and she smiled as she spoke. Callisto was a bit surprised himself, not sure how he managed to stay asleep through a bandit raid, but he didn’t feel nearly as exhausted as he did last night.

Callisto looked back to Bjorlam blankly before speaking again.

“Terribly sorry to disappoint, but we should be on our way.”

“We’ll be needin’ that horse, and the wagon, makes it much easier to move mammoth bones.” The scrawny looking archer chimed in, still laughing to himself slightly. 

Callisto shook his head. He had to give them a bit of credit, the mammoth poachers of Skyrim could usually hold their own, having to deal with giants for so long tends to strengthen one's abilities. Things were looking a bit more grim now, and Callisto took a moment to think before looking back up at the bandits.

“By all means…” Callisto trailed off before starting to stand up, gesturing at the carriage with his hands. The bandit with the warhammer moved slightly and Callisto decided it was time to act. 

He swiftly took his dagger from his side and flung it forward, with great strength, at the leading bandit’s face. It pierced through her eye and she was sent backwards, crying out. Callisto wasted no time hurling himself towards the seat of the carriage and took the reins firmly in his hands, whipping them steadily.

The horse took off forward, and arrows began to fly by Callisto’s ear, one of them hit the wagon on the side. He ducked his head as low as he could manage while still being able to see, and looked back to see the bandit leader still on the ground, conscious but unable to stand up. The two archers had their weapons drawn, and were firing rapidly. 

Callisto shot a final look at Bjorlam, whose eyes were wide in awe. His gaze held the other mans for a moment before he yanked the reins to the side. The horse turned with great speed, and almost sent the carriage on it’s side. Callisto faced the archers now, and they had moved in his direction. 

The archers did not stop their advance even as Callisto whipped the reins once more, the steed raced forward, refusing to slow down as an arrow pierced its shoulder. He had to stand up slightly in order to move out of the way of the projectiles. As he did so, he made eye contact with one of the archers, noting that the bandit he’d struck down earlier was no longer moving on the ground. The other moved off to the side, putting a bit more distance between each other. 

He held the archer’s gaze, despite feeling the force of an arrow brush past his face. He stood taller on the carriage, gripping the reins with such strength his fingernails dug into his palms, staring down below him. 

The bandits' eyes met him as he approached, terror evident on his face, the arrows shot slower and slower until he ran out of them all together. 

Callisto’s resolve wavered slightly as he grew closer to the bandits, and he dropped himself into the driver's seat of the wagon, struggling to keep control of the reins. He had to lower himself significantly in order to avoid the arrows still being fired near his head from the other archer, but once he did, he got as low as he could in the seat before stretching his leg out, and giving the wooden shaft of the carriage on the right a heavy kick, detaching it from the horse all together. He gave the reins one final yank to the far right as he rose back up from his position. The horse cried out as it dashed to the right, almost tripping over its own feet.

The two bandits had no time to register that the momentum of the sharp turn was now sending the partially detached carriage swinging right for them both, whacking their bodies back several feet, the impact sending one bandit straight into a nearby wall of rock with a deafening crack, and the other limply descending the hill past the forest trail they had been stopped on. Callisto barely had time to bring the horse to a stop before crashing into a tree. 

He breathed deeply but wasted no time, he jumped from his position to one behind the wagon and waited, ducking himself down. After a few minutes, Callisto confirmed that the bandits had been taken care of.

Once he emerged from his spot he quickly made his way over to the first bandit he had struck down, finally removing the dagger from her blood soaked face. From the mess of it all, he could discern that by trying to yank it out of her eye, she only worsened the wound. He secured a simple hunting bow and a steel warhammer from the fallen foe as well, along with a few lockpicks and some much needed gold and fur armor. Once he had what he needed, he quietly picked up the bandit and placed her body under a particularly thick part of brush within the forest. 

It was certainly not the first time he had seen death, nor was it the first time he had taken a life. As a legionnaire he had fought many battles where blood was spilled against his blade, and yet there was still something Callisto always reminded himself. In Skyrim, you don’t often have a choice whether you live or die, whether or not you live to tell your tale. Callisto reminded himself that when he killed, he was making the choice to live. For in most situations, the only other option was death. He repeated this to himself over and over, as nameless Stormcloaks fell before him, and as Imperial soldiers fell beside him, it was his choice for him to live, and for them to die. Although he told himself this as much as he could, it did not make killing feel any different. 

Callisto trekked back up the trail a ways, leading the horse and the carriage back to where Bjorlam remained tied to a tree. The old man had looked as though he had been peacefully sleeping, and once he stirred from the sound of Callisto’s approaching footsteps, he looked up at him. Callisto heard the man slowly start to chuckle before breaking out into vibrant laughter. It made him stop briefly and stare down at him.

Once Bjorlam’s fit had quieted, Callisto bent down to take hold of the ropes around the other man's wrists, cutting through them with the same bloodied dagger he had used to release his own hands from bondage not too long ago. Bjorlam didn’t stand for a moment, but rather smiled to himself as he shook his head, rubbing his wrists for a moment before finally speaking.

“We’ve really gotta find ya a name, so I know what to call ya when I tell that story!” He began to laugh slightly again. Callisto turned around to start reattaching the carriage to the horse while he smiled at his words.

“I’ll think of one soon, are you alright?” He replied calmly. Bjorlam shrugged off his question with a gesture, and easily swung himself up and into the driver's seat. Once the wagon was in order, Callisto looked up at the sky. They’d be arriving in Windhelm just after dark so it seemed, and given the circumstances, Callisto was content with that. He pulled himself onto the back of the carriage once again, and it started moving right away. This time he was determined not to fall asleep, no matter how hard his head pounded. 

“About that name, I was thinkin’ something heroic, it’ll make my story more interesting. Ya ever knew any heroes, bandit slayer?” Bjorlam broke the silence with a sentiment that was getting quite annoying to Callisto, but after thinking for a moment, he fell silent, pondering the old man’s words. “You look like ya do.” Bjorlam continued, with a softer tone than before. 

Callisto did not take much longer to answer.

“Leonis.” He replied quietly.

Bjorlam turned his head back to look at him briefly, nodding his head and smiling down at him. 

“Hm, that’ll do.” He said with a grin. 

Callisto nodded back at Bjorlam with a smile, yet he felt angry at himself. For speaking that name, having the audacity to consider using it, but he knew he couldn’t exist nameless for long. Callisto willed himself to believe that It no longer mattered, that the name held nothing to it now. 

“The story of Leonis, and how he took out three bandits all with an iron dagger and a horse carriage.” Bjorlam mused.

Callisto smiled to himself distantly, a deep pain making itself known in his chest as they followed the trail. 

\-------------------------------------

The pair had sauntered into the Windhelm stables around three hours after sunset. Callisto had begun giving a brief goodbye, expecting that to be the end of it, but Bjorlam spoke up again before he could turn to leave. 

“I’ve got a room here at the stable, Alfarinn will be your ticket out, but he won’t like what I’ve done with the carriage.” Bjorlam spoke abruptly, glancing back at the wagon and removing his knapsack from the side. The rest of the journey to the hold’s capitol made it evident the heavy kick from earlier weakened it some. 

Bjorlam looked up suddenly, the moonlight partially illuminating his face. 

“Don’t forget now, you’re the reason I’m not still tied to a tree, I won’t forget that...Leonis.” The last part of his sentence was hesitant, but the old Nord’s smile dismissed any doubt in his words. 

Hearing the name out loud was not uncomfortable, nor was it out of place, and maybe it was meant to be that way. Names could be simple, arbitrary, or they could carry weight, and in this moment, it didn’t particularly matter. If he had to be called something, he could live with a name like that.

Leonis caught himself smiling back at Bjorlam unconsciously before turning and walking towards the gates of the city.

\-------------------------------------

It had not looked like the Windhelm he’d heard tales of. Leonis knew better than to openly step foot inside the stone walls of the city as an Imperial, and he had slipped on a tattered cowl to obscure his face just slightly. The first thing he did upon entry was dodge a nearby street fight between two angry looking Nord men and an undoubtedly disheveled Dark Elf, he watched for a moment while the situation eventually deescalated, and made his way inside the stone structure at the center of the snowy city. 

Leonis could no longer see his breath as he shuffled through the door, hearing cheerful music from above him. He did not dawdle, making his way to the rugged looking woman at the counter. He directed a blindly bright smile at her, failing to keep his head veiled. The woman smiled back sweetly, a small gap between her two front teeth. 

“Well, what can I do for you?” The woman leaned heavily over the counter, her eyes hazeley blinking up at Leonis. He leaned in a bit too, trying to keep his voice low.

“I’m interested in one of your rooms, if you’ll have me.” Leonis noticed the woman’s eyes flash something he was often used to seeing, his statement making her laugh slightly. 

“Why of course, It’s yours for the night, do let me know if there’s anything else you need.” Her words were slow in her delivery, each one more drawn out than the last, and Leonis found himself getting bored. His expression morphed into more of a smirk as he gingerly placed the septims into her hand.

“I just might.” he lowered his voice even more as he intentionally lingered his eyes on her face before turning to walk towards the rooms. He could tell that there was something else she intended to ask, but he made sure to hurry off before she could.

As he opened the door, his smirk returned for an entirely different reason. Why the innkeepers of Skyrim left valuable items inside rentable rooms was beyond him. It was as if they were there to tempt the good-hearted into a life of petty thievery, but as far as Leonis understood, he knew nothing of being good-hearted.

Once he had finished turning the place upside down for things that were useful in some way, either to be sold or utilized in his travels, he started to push the wooden dresser against the wall of his room just slightly so the end of it was obstructing the door. He then took a now empty bottle of Ale from his pack and gently rested it on the very end of the same dresser. There was little to no chance of someone breaking into his room, but why take the chance?

Leonis breathed deeply to himself, looking around the room, he removed the cowl and armor from his body before gracefully sitting atop the bed. He found himself staring at the wooden beams of the ceiling for an unknown amount of time, but it was longer than he wanted to be awake. He didn’t want to let his mind wander into unthinkable territory, but he knew by now that he did not have a real way to stop it. He wanted to dismiss the ache he felt throughout his body, as well as the particularly stubborn one in his chest, and above all else, he didn’t want to confront how terrified he felt. 

Leonis was used to running, he had perfected the art of it over the course of his life, one would think he would be comfortable with the act by now. Something deep in his heart told him that running, although sometimes necessary, only made worse situations for himself. He’d run from his home in Cyrodiil and hadn’t gotten a real chance to breathe since. It was painful, but he knew it was what he was good at. Keeping his ventures moving, as well as his life, and it was destroying him, his expression hardened as he stared at the ceiling. He knew however, that he did not have a choice. 

Yet, the stakes were even higher, he was to be put to death if he were ever to be found. The dragons were somehow back, and his journey across Skyrim was based entirely on an offhanded tip a petty thief had whispered as he sold out the Imperial Legion for pocket change. 

He closed his eyes, and sighed deeply. 

No, that would not be the end. He would not die this way, nameless as a forgettable criminal, he simply wouldn’t let it.  
\-------------------------------------

Leonis stood stiffly with his eyes fixed on the shopkeep, he had been inspecting a silver and garnet ring for about ten minutes and it had dragged on long enough as far as he was concerned. While the man behind the counter was engrossed with the small ring, Leonis paced back and forth across the small shop, swiping small things from the shelf, including a ring worth much more than the one he was attempting to sell, as well as a couple of septims. 

Although he walked out of the shop annoyed, he ended up with twice as much as he walked in with. Leonis began making his way up the cobble steps, now exiting what the locals dubbed as the ‘Grey Quarter.’ It seemed to be a city divided, such as many others in Skyrim.

It was nearing the afternoon as Leonis opted to stay put near the inn, going into the market could risk getting noticed. 

He ultimately decided that this was a better alternative after all, considering the gossip and chatter the people of Windhelm provided. Rumors of a deadly killer slid off of several peoples tongues, as well as mumblings about the dragons returning. Most interestingly, there was great enthusiasm about the return of Ulfric Stormcloak, and the advantage of the war. 

Leonis smiled slightly to himself, now that Ulfric had returned as the Jarl of Windhelm, there would still be a part yet to play in the war. He pushed his curious interest aside and reminded himself that Ulfric’s return meant he was in greater danger, considering the circumstances of when they last met. Leonis pulled himself away from the wall of the inn he’d been leaning on, and began to stroll out of the large city gates, his cowl sheltering his face from the guards. 

As Leonis reached the stable, he eyed the younger looking Nord man sat atop the carriage, a slightly worried look on his face as he stared off towards the northeast mountains. Leonis strolled up to him, careful not to reveal too much of his face as he spoke. 

“Is your carriage for hire?” He silently hoped that this journey by wagon would not befall the same fate as his last.

“Where do you want to go?” The man, presumably Alfarinn, cleared his throat before asking the question. Leonis’ curiosity was piqued by his strange unease, but if he were to be truthful, he was tired of the nonsense, at this rate he’d never get where he needed to go. 

“Riften.” Leonis replied, his eyes seemed to bore into Alfarinn’s in a silent command. He understood Riften had a reputation, and he’d be lying if he said it didn’t deserve it, but the last thing he needed was to be questioned about it. Alfarinn now looked uneasy for a completely different reason, gesturing for Leonis to hop into the carriage with his head. 

He handed Alfarinn a small sack of gold before easily stepping into the back of the carriage, Leonis looked out onto the snowy path they’d be traveling on, and assured himself that he was so close, and the next chapter of his life would begin. What that next chapter looked like was completely unknown to him, but he had no intention of ever looking back.

\-------------------------------------

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, thanks for sticking around to chapter two. As always feedback is appreciated, and feel free to leave a comment, even it's just to say hello. The introductions are always my least favorite parts of stories and I think you can tell just how much I loathe them given the quality of these first two chapters, I promise it'll get better. I understand that the sudden name switch is jarring and a little uncomfortable, but I wanted that to be preserved because that's exactly how Leonis is feeling. Oh this is off topic but I didn't think I would ever have a reason to visit the separate wiki pages Skyrim has for it's carriage drivers, but there I was, good to know it's there honestly.

**Author's Note:**

> Oh boy, this is my first story and I don't know if I want to make a series of Skyrim related works or not, but I want to see how this story fares before I make that decision.
> 
> There's nothing set in stone about this series, so please leave any suggestions for a certain scene anyone would like to see rewritten or character they would like to see depicted in a certain way, I would love to hear them. 
> 
> General feedback is also appreciated and no, I didn't do any real editing, I will in the future but if there's a gramatical error that you can't stand please let me know so I can fix it.
> 
> Thank you for reading.


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